


Whipped

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [29]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Manicures & Pedicures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spa day, really?  Stiles doesn't know how Lydia talks him into these things.  </p><p>Oh, wait, yes he does.  He's completely whipped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cotton Candy bingo prompt: pampering. A bit of sexy thoughts but not enough to make this M, in my opinion. They are having sex, though.

Stiles gives the salon the stink eye but knows better than to shoot that same look at his girlfriend. He just tries puppy dog eyes on her.

They never work.

Tapping one perfect foot in a perfect open toed sandal, Lydia is completely unimpressed.

"I'm a guy, remember?"

"Men can get all the same spa treatments as women." Her lips quirk a bit. "Well, maybe not bikini waxing, though there is manscaping..."

His look turns horrified and he has a terrible desire to cross his legs even though he's standing. "No, no, I'm fine there." As Lydia starts into the salon and he trails helplessly behind, he uncertainly asks, "I _am_ fine there, right?"

Over her shoulder she shoots him a sweet smile. "I have no complaints."

Stiles sighs in relief and his balls stop trying to crawl back into his body, then the sights and sounds and smells of the salon hit him.

It's all very pink.

But the Beatles 'Blackbird' is playing softly, so that's one good thing about the place.

"Y'know, I could just go hang out at the hardware store down the street..."

"And you know the difference between a socket wrench and a crescent wrench?"

"Um..."

She strides up to the desk where a receptionist sits looking perfectly groomed in a pink smock. "Martin, appointment at 3:00 for two."

The woman glances at a computer screen then gives her a fake smile. "Yes. Monique for you and Trevor for your companion." She taps the keyboard, then fake smiles again. "They'll be right with you."

Lydia moves over to a rack of nail polish bottles. There are over a hundred in every color imaginable. Looking at them, Stiles' eyes glaze over in horror. "I'm not getting nail polish," he says stubbornly, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Hmm..." Picking a bottle of purple for herself, she taps a pale pink, then shakes her head. "No, you're right. Clear is fine. I expect you to have clear on, understand?"

Under her intense gaze, he nods hurriedly before she changes her mind and makes him take the pink.

It's at that moment that Stiles realizes he's completely whipped. A moment later, Trevor, a thirty-something definitely metrosexual male, whisks him into a small room, chatting about his decent skin tone and bone structure and admiring his long, slender fingers.

He is so fucked.

But, two hours later, Stiles emerges from the room to flop bonelessly in a cushy chair to wait for Lydia, willing to admit, at least to himself, that the experience didn't completely suck. The foot bath, massage and lotions that were all part of the pedicure were actually pretty nice. Trevor had tsked a lot about the pedestrian--hah--state of his feet--really, they were feet, all Stiles did was wash the stinky from them and make sure his toe nails didn't poke through his socks--and spent a lot of time with a buffer thing to remove callouses and dry skin, but his feet kind of tingle now.

It's...nice.

His fingernails have never looked so neat, either--cuticles neatly trimmed, nails buffed and the clear polish really isn't noticeable so he doubts he'll get ribbed in the locker room.

Anyway, he's noticed that a few straight guys have pretty decent looking nails, so maybe he's not the only one subjected to spa days.

And the mint facial to exfoliate his pores really was refreshing, though he can't see much difference in his skin. He knows Lydia does this at home a couple times a week so maybe it takes more than one go.

Maybe he should look into that...

Jesus, he's completely whipped.

When Lydia emerges from her own room, skin glowing, purple polish on her fingers and toes, relaxed smile on her face, he jumps up and goes to her to kiss her cheek, tasting peach in that brief moment. "So, how was it?"

"Eh, it was okay." He's still a guy, after all.

She gives him an indulgent look and pats his cheek. "Hm, smoother." When her fingers linger, he knows he'll be googling male facials--and not the gay sex kind, need to reword that better--to see what he'll need for home.

Yep, whipped.

As the receptionist runs her credit card, Lydia leans up and whispers to him, "I'm all relaxed. Want to take me home and make me tense and then relax me again?"

Dick twitching at the purr in her voice, Stiles nods eagerly.

So, very, very whipped.

End


End file.
